Discourse on Lost Things
by arsenous elation
Summary: The dear, dead loves of vanished youth. —Smith, Brzenska—


Title: Discourse on Lost Things  
Pairing/s: Erwin Smith, Rico Brzenska  
Summary: the dear, dead loves of vanished youth.

A/N: I realize that I may make drabbles of this ship rather than long ones. The line, "the dear, dead loves of vanished youth." is from _Dead Stars, _by Paz Marquez Benitez (which also inspires this fic). Poster by me, texture by rosebein of DA

WARNING: Rushed and butchered. May be subject to revisions. Don't expect too much. Edited on Jul 2, 2015

* * *

Discourse on Lost Things  
「_erwin smith x rico_ _brzenska_」

_**→•←**_

_« _by arsenous elation _»_

_"...the dear, dead loves of vanished youth."_

_****→•←****_

_**You Were**_  
_by William Kistler_

we are standing in the river of passing,  
each waiting for the warmth of the other's face,  
unable to understand why they are not with us,  
startled by their absence, traveler and traveler  
distant as two dots unconnected in a yellow field.

* * *

****→•←****

Suddenly, it isn't about the chess game anymore.

The silence has gone thin and fragile, but with the tenderness of childhood memory tucked into history. Rico Brzenska doesn't know if she should be grateful or annoyed that finally, they're onto something. This pretentious pretending has gone on long enough for her to tolerate.

"Why did you write that recommendation letter?"

Erwin Smith's voice is neutral, his eyes trained onto the board. "Would you rather that I didn't?"

Both of them know that there's something else.

...

Rico glances at the folded letter lying beside her teacup, its words hidden from view. It is because of this letter that she is now a Squad Leader of Garrison's 1st Division Elite Force. It is because of this letter that she is now sitting across the Commander of the Survey Legion, drinking tea and playing chess, acting as if—

"Eleven years, Commander—" this is where she stops herself. Eleven years. Eleven years of what? Waiting? Yearning? She has neither waited nor yearned.

...

All these years, Rico has moved forward for the sake of humanity's progress. She has left her childhood behind, packed into a trunk under her bed in father's home. The worn photograph of her mother, smile glowing with happiness; the kite the boy gave her, fragile and colorful; the heart that he returned when he left for the military with a final note saying, _you would understand._

Rico has never looked back.

And now here they are. Erwin Smith's voice is unfamiliar now, not as warm as she remembers, but his eyes are alight in the same way when he was nineteen. His shoulders have once carried her and now it carries the entire world. Briefly she is tempted to touch his knuckles to see and confirm that all this while, she has been looking at a memory.

_A memory. _

A memory.

A great realization strikes her and Rico stands, slowly, a ghost of smile on her mouth. There is a question in Erwin's eyes, openly asked.

She answers, "I guess I was waiting for something...an explanation. But of course. I have understood it a long time ago."

She salutes her farewell, turns around and walks away.

...

All those years are lost now, dead stars.

There should be anger here, she realizes, or even sadness. But there is only a wide emptiness. Like an empty bookshelf, or a dusty home. Like the dear, dead loves of vanished youth. Things that could have held big things but now hold nothing.

She is by the door when Erwin Smith speaks.

"Why didn't you join the Survey Legion?"  
(with me?)

The same reason you didn't go after Marie, she does not say because that wouldn't be right. Erwin Smith never went for something that he did not want.

Instead, what she says is, "The same reason I didn't go after you that day."

Rico looks back at him, the fading light casting shadows over his face and form. From this distance, she could still discern the sternness of his mouth, that strange but almost nostalgic light of his eyes.

"Eleven years," she finds herself saying, her voice catching, grasping something already gone, hand already turning the knob, foot already stepping out of the room.

"I fell in love with you a little."


End file.
